


Warmth, Comfort, Rodney

by Seaward



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaward/pseuds/Seaward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John can't blame himself for what he thinks about while trapped in a too small cage. What happens when he gets out of the cage...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth, Comfort, Rodney

**Author's Note:**

> I rushed the proofreading on this a bit to post it in honor of AO3 reaching 1 million fanworks, so hopefully it's ready enough!

Cold. Pain. Alone.

It was dark.  Or maybe his eyes were closed, but he couldn't open them. He couldn't move at all even though he was crushed uncomfortably into a ball. He tried to listen, to hear his surroundings, but he couldn't stay awake.

 

Cold. Pain. Alone.

This time John managed to open his eyes. He was naked in a cage made of metal bars, and he was curled tight around his knees to fit. The bars beneath him dug into his butt and behind him one poked his spine. There were metal cuffs on his wrists connected to each other by a few inches of metal chain and similar cuffs hobbled his ankles.

He could not lift his head without hitting the bars that formed the top of his cage, but by shifting his chin a bit he could look right to see a much larger cage that held a large furry creature with fangs. The beast was unconscious or asleep. Its paws were chained much like John's hands and feet, but its cage was large enough for the animal to lie down or stand up.

John's cage would have been proportional for a monkey. He wondered what was usually chained inside. He wondered if he was meant to be food for the furry creature or if he'd be expected to fight it.

Trying to think made his head hurt, but he tried to make a tactical assessment. The last thing John remembered was running for the gate. The rest of his team ran though while he provided cover fire, and he remembered blow darts flying through the air and one hitting him in the neck.

He couldn't move enough to rub his neck where he knew the wound would be. Instead, he shifted until a different part of his ass and spine rested painfully against the bars.

From the state of his bladder, John guessed he'd been a prisoner for at least ten hours. It wasn't like pissing himself in this situation would break him, but he figured he could hold out a while longer in hopes that his team would be back for a rescue, assuming they could find him.  If he was still on the same planet, it really shouldn't have taken this long, unless the locals had more than blow darts. John wished he had more information, didn't feel quite so helpless.

Buck naked in chains and a cage, John couldn't think up much of an escape plan, at least until someone showed up to try to move him or feed him. Whatever had been in the dart made it easy to sleep.

 

The next time John woke his situation hadn't changed, except he really needed to pee and every other part of his body was screaming in pain from the cramped position and lack of movement. After considering whether he'd need to drink his own piss to stave off dehydration and figuring he couldn't manage in his confined position even if he wanted to, John let himself go. His lack of clothing and the metal bars under him meant he didn't have to sit in it at least.

The creature in the next cage raised its head to sniff in his direction. Its nose and whiskers reminded John of a lion or cougar, but the length of its snout and jaw looked more like a wolf or jackal, only bigger. John thought he could fight it if someone gave him at least a knife, but barehanded, he wouldn't have much of a chance. Maybe if he could get behind it, he could spring on its back and try to break its neck.

He wondered if McKay would feel sympathetic toward the creature because its nose resembled a cat. He imagined McKay petting the beast, then shook his head at the image. His head struck a bar on top of the cage, and that hurt. John instinctively tried to move a hand to the injured area but couldn't. He imagined McKay patting his hair instead of the cat-beast, and it made him feel better. Given all the things he'd imagined involving McKay, this seemed like harmless comfort. John fell asleep again to the imagined touch of Rodney's fingers stroking his hair.

 

When John woke again, his throat and lips felt dry and swollen. He couldn't guess whether he'd been captive for one day or three. One of his legs was twitching with pins and needles from toe to hip. Everything else ached as it had before. The beast in the other cage was whining. John's hopes for escape collapsed with no one coming to feed or move them.

Still, John thought he was holding up well, at least he wasn't whining like the creature. Instead, he imagined his team breaking down the door, except he realized he couldn't see a door, just walls with slit windows rising from a dirt floor. The door was probably behind him, in the part of the room he couldn't see. He tried to imagine a rescue coming from behind him, but that made him feel even more vulnerable, and then he felt cold again, and his leg was still twitching.

Instead he imagined Rodney running toward him from the side, pulling tools from his pocket to unlock the cage and then the shackles. He imagined Rodney guiding him out of the cage feet first, because that was the only way it was going to work. Then Rodney would put his hand on John's head to keep him from bumping it as he worked his way out. He could trust Rodney to think of that, to worry about John that way. Rodney's hand was large enough that the fingers would brush John's neck, warm and alive, safe.

If John's abused body wouldn't support him at first, Rodney would take John's weight against his own body. John could imagine Rodney pressed against him, solid and comforting, his hands tracing along John's arms and back. As Rodney reassured himself that John had no further injuries, John would be reassured by the touch and pull himself together. Then Rodney would lean in and kiss him, tentatively at first, with just a flick of tongue at the end.

John imagined himself smiling and Rodney understanding it was a promise for later.

In reality, John knew there would be a lot of words. There were always a lot of words with McKay, but John didn't make up words easily. Of course, in reality there wouldn't be any kissing or nearly as much touching. But John couldn't feel very guilty right now about finding comfort in an imaginary McKay. The guy had such clever hands and such a great ass. John tried to believe McKay would be pleased to know that John imagined him the way McKay imagined Carter when he was trapped underwater in a puddle jumper. But John didn't really like thinking about McKay imagining Carter, so John went back to just imagining Rodney rescuing him from the cage.

 

The next time John woke, Rodney was crouched in front of the tiny cage picking the outer lock. At first, John wasn't sure if this was an imaginary rescue, but McKay was muttering to himself. John found that reassuring. "Stupid primitives with blow darts and padlocks. How do those two even go together anyway? And poaching through stargates, as if Pegasus doesn't have enough problems without idiotic poacher capturing poufy haired Colonels."

"My hair is not poufy." John thought he said it fairly well around the dried up stick that used to be his tongue.

"Good to have you with us, Colonel. Maybe I won't have to make Conan haul your ass out of there once he finishes with the kitty."

John tried to see what Ronon was doing to the beast. He seemed to be prying its manacles off with a knife. The creature was still in its cage and appeared to be fast asleep. John found that reassuring, too.

"We used part of the blow dart supply to knock it out again. I'm all for giving it a chance to escape, but not while we're still here. As far as we can tell, someone captured or killed your kidnappers, probably on some other planet where they were collecting some other exotic animal. We're still not sure exactly why they took you, whether they knew you were a gene carrier or someone has a bounty on you. I guess it only figures exotic animal poachers would want you, too. Add them to the list. The people we talked to didn't think these blow dart guys dabbled in human trafficking, and clearly this cage is much too small for you. Teyla, Lorne, and a couple of marines are watching outside just in case."

John tried to nod in agreement but hit his head on the bar again. Rodney gave him the raised eyebrow that told him not to be an idiot as the lock finally came apart in Rodney's hands. John stared at those hands. 

"Anyway," Rodney continued as he opened the cage door, "We found a stash of spare darts outside, so we're bring some back for Carson to analyze. Did you notice any affects I should be aware of?"

At the chance for freedom John surged forward, head first, and Rodney's hand reached his head in an instant, sending shivers through his scalp and reminding him of how he'd imagine Rodney rescuing him and caring for him when he was all alone.

Rodney, almost certainly a real Rodney given how much he talked, said, "Careful, Colonel 'Dive Head First into Danger.' Flexible as you may be on your best days, I think you need to push your legs out first on this one."

John had known that before, but it was good to have Rodney think of it now. It was worth being an idiot to feel Rodney's touch, to have Rodney take care of him, but John knew he needed to pull himself together. The hand on his head helped.

Then Rodney used one hand to pull and unfold each of John's legs while keeping the hand on John's head so he didn't stupidly crash into anything. Rodney's fingers were long enough to brush the back of John's neck, just as he'd imagined, and they were warm and alive. John tried to focus on his neck and the fingers that felt so good, but that was drowned out by the pain, and pins and needles did not begin to cover it, as he straightened his legs and felt each muscle, tendon, and joint protest that this was not something physical training had prepared them for.

He may have made a sound. He may have missed some of what Rodney said.

Then Rodney was stroking his neck and the hair just above it saying, "Okay, you can either wiggle your way out or I'll have to call someone to pull your legs while I keep your head safe. Can you handle this? Are you tracking? Because honestly, I'm a little worried about what was in those darts."

John didn't feel like he was under the influence of anything, except sore muscles and dehydration. And he'd be damned if he couldn't get the rest of the way out of the cage without anyone else besides Rodney witnessing his misbehaving, naked body. He realized he'd be squirming out with his private bits right up close and personal to Rodney, and for a moment he wished he was at least cleaner, but the moment passed.

The situation could turn dangerous at any moment. There was no guarantee that more blow dart guys or someone else wouldn't show up eventually, and John had to pull himself together and act like a military commander or at least a non-liability.

He squirmed, and it was remarkably awkward with his hands still connected by a short piece of chain. But with Rodney tugging on one shoulder and supporting his head and neck, John eventually made it out of the cage to sit bare assed on the dirt floor.

"Well, I guess you're still pretty flexible, even on a bad day." Rodney had let go of John while he spoke, which was disappointing for a moment. Then Rodney's jacket was wrapped around John's waist with the sleeves tied at the side so it covered the most essential bits. "I think there are scrubs in the jumper, which is parked just outside. Do you think you could hobble there and I could pick the locks on the rest as Lorne flies us home, or do you need a foot free now?"

"If you can get me standing, I think I can hobble," John managed to say. His tongue still felt swollen, but it was better now that he was awake and moving.

A moment later, Rodney hauled John to his feet. They weren't pressed quite as close as in John's fantasy, and there wasn't any kissing or extra touching, but for the moment, John was happy to have Rodney to lean on, and he was able to move his own two feet enough to reach the jumper.

 

Back on Atlantis, Carson kept John trapped in the infirmary for hours as he ran scans and blood tests and analyzed blow darts. John had a growing urge to run away, but he wasn't quite up to running. He'd been fed and hydrated and shared what information he had, which was nothing his team and Elizabeth hadn't already known. He felt himself coming apart at the seams, and he desperately needed some time alone.

"Doc, let me go. I need a shower and a night in my own bed. Then I'll be fine."

"You're not ready to be on your own, lad. One more night here, and I'll let you go in the morning."

John didn't want to beg, but he didn’t think he could take another hour of exposure to the light, sounds, and people in the infirmary. His defenses weren't just weak, they were exhausted, but there was no way he could say that.

His eyes shifted to Rodney, whom he didn't feel up to dealing with right then either, but part of him still sought as his rescuer.

"I'll stay with him, Carson." Rodney huffed and shifted his computer like it was a great weight under his arm. "The Colonel clearly needs the comfort of his own postage stamp sized bed, and I can read reports from idiot minions just as well there as here."

John closed his eyes to hide their sudden wetness. He was in a bad way when Rodney assuming he'd stay with John one place or the other could bring tears to his eyes. But a rescue was a rescue, and soon John was standing in his own room, still dressed in scrubs and leaning against Rodney's solid bulk.

Rodney tried to steer him toward the bed, but John rallied to speak, "Shower first."

"You can barely stand."

"I'll lean against the wall," John ground out.

"Atlantis would probably produce a shower chair for you if you asked nicely."

"I'll be fine, just let me go."

Rodney frowned in the way that made his mouth crooked and his eyes big, but John figured he'd won the argument when Rodney helped him to the bathroom door and then let go.

All John could really manage was a quick rinse of everything including his mouth, because he really wasn't up to washing his hair or brushing his teeth. He only bothered to run a towel over his face and chest before wrapping it around his waist because he thought Rodney might still be camped out in his room.

Sure enough, Rodney was perched on a chair by John's bed with his computer open on his lap.

"You don't have to stay," John said.

Rodney rolled his eyes and lifted his computer a couple inches. "I'll be working. I told Carson I'd stay."

"Since when do you obey Carson?"

"Since this is about you and not me," Rodney snarked. "Now can I help you with anything?"

John made it to his bed, still with just a towel around his waist and too tired to search out sweats or even boxers. He pulled his blankets up as he tugged the towel off. Then he gave a quick swipe at his still wet shoulders and hair before falling back onto his pillows and dropping the towel on the floor. His eyes closed, and for a moment he felt great, safe and warm and back in his own bed.

Then he remembered. Cold. Pain. Alone. Suddenly he was freezing and curling into a ball. All his sore muscles tightened up, and while he knew where he was, he couldn't relax, couldn't open his eyes.

A warm hand grabbed his shoulder through the blankets. "Hey, Colonel…Sheppard…John—it's okay. Relax. I've got you."

John was pretty sure he hadn't really heard that. Rodney didn't say things like that. And Rodney never called him John.

But the hand on his shoulder felt very real. It started to knead John's shoulder, forcing in warmth and making that muscle relax. Then there was another hand, on John's other shoulder, and Rodney was pushing John over onto his stomach. Normally John would have stopped him, would have fought against Rodney's strength, but right now he couldn't make himself resist. He didn't want to resist.

John shifted his arms up so his forehead rested on his hands. That left him facing down, so Rodney couldn't see his face, so John wouldn't be so exposed. What Rodney was doing hurt, because John's muscles were that tight and sore. But already his back was unclenching. Knowing that Rodney knew what John needed, and was willing to give it, was almost more than John could take at the moment. But Rodney was too stubborn to be sent away, so John tried to relax and keep his face hidden.

Rodney's hands decoded John's back the way they dismantled alien technology. Even when Rodney's kneading and rubbing hurt, John could feel the movement achieving some purpose. Rodney dug into a knot in John's back, and it felt like shards of glass breaking under the skin. Tears leaked from the corners of John's eyes, but with his face down, all he had to do was stay silent. And when the pain stopped, it felt wonderful. Then Rodney circled his large warm hands around John's shoulders, brushing just an edge of bare skin above the sheet, and John felt warmth radiating outward across his skin.

Rodney worked lower down John's back to where the muscles along his spine had tensed against metal bars. There was deep stinging pain, and John remembered wanting Rodney to rescue him. He'd imagined Rodney's warmth against his skin, and his skin resented the sheet and blanket between them. Then John remembered this was real, and it was better than he'd imagined because he could really have Rodney this way at least. Even if it might be close to pity, the fact that Rodney cared enough to stay with him, that Rodney's clever hands and mind were focused on fixing John's back, seemed too good to give up, almost too good to be true. For a moment John worried he was unconscious after all, still in the cage, imagining this.

Then Rodney started talking as he worked past the current pain and ran his hands in long solid strokes up and down John's back.

"Aren't you glad I didn't listen to your stupid military posturing? You would have kept to yourself until your muscles tightened up and you couldn't get out of bed. I would have had to come after you again, which I would have done. Don't think that job's only yours as team leader. I wouldn't leave you behind either. Granted, I'm probably better suited to rescuing you from your own stupidity right here on Atlantis, and I certainly know enough about back pain with all my years of experience. But you knew we'd rescue you from that cage, right? In your place, I would have known, so it's only fair you know it, too."

As Rodney's hands moved over John, it felt like John was moving, like swimming or pulling close to someone so they could both run their hands up and down each other's backs. John imagined clinging to Rodney that way and tears leaked from his closed eyes into his pillow. He felt his back relax further under Rodney's warm, confident strokes.

Then Rodney was pulling away, tucking the blanket up tighter around John's neck. John tensed at the loss of contact.

"Are you still cold?" Rodney's hand slid between the pillow and John's forehead unexpectedly, shifting John's head and possibly revealing a glimpse of his face, but John turned away quickly to hide whatever might show there.

After a terrifying pause Rodney said, "It's okay, John. Whatever it is, you're safe now." Rodney's hand eased forward between John's forehead and the pillow, but without moving his head this time. "You don't seem to have a fever. Should I go get a heating pad?  It might keep you warm and help your back relax."

John just wanted to keep Rodney's hand on his body—his back, his forehead, it really didn't matter. But he didn't know how to say that. He didn't manage to say anything, but he might have pushed his forehead into Rodney's hand, burying it deeper in the pillow.

"Okaaaay." John could practically hear the wheels turning in Rodney's brain. "Maybe you should try to sleep, and I'll stay right here."

That was all John needed to know.  He fell asleep.

 

When he woke up, there was morning light coming through his window. John could still feel a hand on his head, up in his hair because John had turned his face away to the side at some point while he slept. He couldn't see Rodney without moving, but he was sure it was Rodney's hand. It wasn't moving, and from the slow breathing John heard behind him, he guessed that Rodney had fallen asleep with his hand on John's head. John couldn't believe how right that felt, how safe he felt with Rodney's hand on him.

Turning to see would risk waking Rodney and having him pull back. But it was morning, and John knew he could deal with that now. He'd already received more care and comfort from Rodney than he'd ever expected, and he felt warm in ways that had nothing to do with his blanket.

John turned his head, enjoying the press and pull on his scalp as Rodney's finger tangled deeper.  For a moment, Rodney's face was inches away, slumped forward onto John's bed from the chair beside. Then Rodney started to wake and pulled himself back, sleep-flushed and bed-headed. Suddenly John thought he'd be a fool to give this up.

"Are you okay?" John asked. "That can't have been a comfortable way to sleep."

"This from the man who could barely move yesterday."

"But you gave me a backrub, a really good backrub, and I didn't know your genius extended to that." John tried to make it sound like a joke, but maybe he wasn't quite on his game yet.

Rodney looked at John with the expression that seemed like wheels were turning in his brain, wheels that only incidentally raised his eyebrows. "My genius might extend to many things you haven't thought about before."

"I didn't say I hadn't thought about it, just that I hadn't known."

"You thought about me giving you a backrub?" Now Rodney's eyes were wide open, even without coffee, and his mouth was half smile and half frown. "When?"

"Maybe in that cage. Maybe I thought about you coming to rescue me."

Whatever mechanisms were at work in Rodney's mind, they seemed to complete their program with that confession. Suddenly Rodney was smiling, and his blue eyes were fixed on John's. "Are you trying to tell me something here?"

"I'm not really allowed to tell, but if you wanted to lie down someplace more comfortable…"

Rodney lay down, fully clothed and on top of the covers but right next to John, as the tiny bed demanded. In a moment, Rodney's hand was stroking John's hair, and John could feel his eyes trying to roll back in bliss, but he kept them fixed on Rodney. Then they each leaned a little closer until their lips brushed. It was the most minimal of all kisses, but John felt it run through his entire body like electric current.

He tried to force an arm out from under the covers to get at Rodney's shirt. His arm and shoulder ached, but he wanted it so badly that his whole body arched forward.

Rodney must have known somehow, because he pulled the covers down enough to free John's arm.  Then Rodney's eyes shifted to the skin he'd uncovered, and John could practically see the pupils expand as Rodney leaned forward to kiss John's shoulder. Then he kissed the crock of John's arm and nuzzled into the covers working his way down to John's nipple.

John was suddenly rock hard and pushing at Rodney through all his own bedding and all of Rodney's clothes. "No."

Rodney looked up, and his face was awash in worry and confusion. "No," John said again, "I want—but you need to take your clothes off, and come in here next to me—unless you want to wait, until I'm in better shape, and can do my part better."

Rodney leaned forward and kissed him, making it clear he had no intention of waiting for John's recovery or for either of them to even brush their teeth. This kiss was nothing like the first one. It was wet and a little sloppy as Rodney's tongue explored John's mouth with the thoroughness his hands had shown John's back. John lost track of time, and whatever he'd been trying to do with his arm, as his body melted into a puddle until Rodney pulled away.  Then John's hand came online enough to reach out and grab Rodney's shirt.

"I thought you wanted me to take it off."

"Grrrrngh."

Rodney smiled as if John had just told him he was a genius at kissing, too, which he pretty much had. Then Rodney pulled John's hand from his shirt and lifted it to his mouth. He sucked on one finger and then two, and John couldn't stop his eyes from rolling back this time. He was seconds away from humping Rodney's leg through the covers, but Rodney seemed to understand and let go long enough to remove his clothes.

John watched glassy eyed when Rodney's muscles stretched and rippled as he pulled his shirt over his head. He stared as Rodney's large, careful hands unfastened the button and zipper and pulled down pants and boxers in one motion, exposing his hard cock, already leaking at the tip. Then Rodney bent to remove his socks, presenting his ass close enough that John could almost lick it. "You are so hot," John managed to say, even though he meant a lot more.

Rodney smirked in a way that was much too self-deprecating for John's take on the situation and said, "No, you're hot. I'm a genius."

John reached forward to roll Rodney's nipple between his fingers. His muscles protested the reach, but it was totally worth it to see Rodney shiver and push his chest forward into John's hand. "If you're a genius, then you should totally know that your nipples poking out through your uniform shirt and your ass in almost any pair of pants are so totally hot that they've been distracting me since we first met in Antarctica. And don't even get me started about your shoulders or hands. Now get in bed."

"Seriously?" Rodney smiled but didn't quite meet John's eyes, and he hesitated at the edge of the bed. "You're sure it didn't just start with blow darts or being trapped in a cage, because I'm not sure I'd have the will power to leave without you telling me to anyway, but if you were interested all this time, then why didn't you say something before?"

"Oh come on, Rodney, I was being an idiot. You know that."

Rodney's smile flashed to ZPM levels, and then he was under the covers, and they were skin to skin, pressing against each other. At first, they each had a hand on the other's back, much like in John's fantasy. Rodney's moved to massage John's ass, and they both started pressing up against each other. Rodney shifted until the position was perfect. Their cocks rubbed beside each other, becoming slick with sweat and pre-come. John pulled Rodney in tighter, rubbing faster, the protest in his sore muscles making the pleasure more real.

"This is—I didn't think—Oh, god."

Rodney's disjointed words cut through John in a way his most articulate explanation never could. Rodney's hand on John's ass, their cocks thrusting together, every movement was startling and real. John knew he couldn't last, but he felt suspended, needing, trusting.

When Rodney's finger traced the crack of John's ass and traced over and around his hole, John exploded and felt his cock pulsing against Rodney as lights flashed behind his eyes. Then just as he calmed down enough to open his eyelids again, John felt Rodney rutting frantically against him, breathing hard and coming. John watched Rodney's face pass from shock to bliss to the happiest he'd ever seen.

Then Rodney burrowed his head into John's neck and mumbled, "Give me a minute, then I'll clean us up. After that I'm going to get us breakfast and arrange to spend the rest of the day taking care of you."

John let himself drift thinking: warmth, comfort, Rodney.


End file.
